Finally, I knock on the door, because I see there is no end to this thought process. I might as well get it over with and see what she wants to do from now on.
It’s still early. She might be sleeping. I knock again, and this time, the door opens. She is still in that state between sleep and wakefulness. Her hair is slightly rumpled, with a few loose curls falling over her forehead. She rubs her eyes before taking a closer look at me.
“Did I wake you?” I ask, feeling stupid because the answer is obvious but that is the safest way to start this conversation, which I don’t know how it will end.
“It’s OK,” she assures me, opening the door further to let me in.
I walk inside. She follows me. Neither of us takes a seat. Instead, we both remain standing. Just one look at the bed is enough to remind me what we did in it just a few hours ago. Desire courses through my veins again, but this time, I won’t succumb to it. The alcohol has long evaporated from my being. I have no excuse now.
“About last night…” I start, scratching the back of my neck. I have no idea how to start this conversation. I just know that I can’t let it fester. I don’t want to. Not because of our sake, but also because of Marley.
“Yeah, about that,” she immediately jumps on the same bandwagon, looking equally awkward. It’s a strange solace, but still some solace that I’m not the only one feeling out of place here.
“I think we can both agree that it was a mistake,” I say, trying to think of it in broader terms, like it was just a business meeting and I’m here to make my point, so everyone can agree, sign the papers and go home happy. That’s what I want to achieve here as well. It’s feasible. I just need a good strategy.
“Absolutely,” she immediately nods. “I shouldn’t have asked for that damn toothpaste.” She smiles, and I can’t resist smiling back, especially hearing her curse, which isn’t something she usually does.
“You need toothpaste,” I remind her. “It’s me who should have given you what you needed then left you alone. Only I didn’t.”
Given you what you needed.
Those words linger in my mind. I feel like I did exactly that. In fact, I feel like we both gave each other what the other person wanted last night, without holding back but you can’t give in to the moment like that. Sometimes, consequences are more treacherous than you might think.
“I guess we’re both to blame,” she says, meeting me halfway.
“Yes,” I agree. “There is no point discussing who’s to blame. We both are.”
I don’t want to prolong this conversation much more. I need to get going, and even if I didn’t, I’m afraid that staying here too long, with her looking even more tempting than she was last night, I might succumb to the temptation again. I can’t allow that to happen.
I swallow heavily, realizing that I need to pull away and go back to the professional relationship that we had. It won’t work otherwise.
“I just needed to assure you that it was a lapse in judgment,” I continue, careful with my words. I try not to focus on her lips, which look even more plump now in the morning than they did last night when I was licking them.
I can’t think about licking right now. Focus.
“A momentary one,” I continue. “I should have known better, as a man, as the older one, as your employer.”
She doesn’t seem to like this comment very much, because it makes her frown. She can’t hide emotions, but it doesn’t matter whether she likes it or not. Maybe it’s better that she doesn’t, because that way, we’ll just revert to what we were. Simply a man and a woman in a business arrangement. Nothing else.
“I am old enough to make my own decisions,” she says softly, but in a determined way. “That is why I said we’re both to blame.”
Not wanting to argue, I nod. “True. I didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”
I wait for her to tell me whether she’s offended or not, whether she holds it against me or not, but she says nothing, so I continue.
“I would rather you didn’t,” I finally say the words I’m most worried about, “but if you want to look for another job, I completely understand.”
The shock on her face tells me that she wasn’t contemplating it. Relief washes over me.
“Would you like me to quit?”
Her question catches me off guard. Her eyes as well.
I don’t know if this is her way of trying to establish control over the situation, but the truth is, no one has control here. We’re both at a loss of what to do or say.
“No,” I decide to go with the truth. “Marley likes you. A lot. And like me, she is very picky about the people she opens up to. I would hate to have to come up with lies as to why you needed to leave, then find someone else whom she might not even like.”
“I like this job,” she tells me, as if she’s telling me the biggest, well-guarded secret she’s ever known. “I like Marley.”